


On the dangers of mixing business with pleasure

by Dadbeat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Decisions, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Life Choices, Post-Canon, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, it sure is tax season huh, titles and tags are hard; so are these boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dadbeat/pseuds/Dadbeat
Summary: Somewhere, anywhere other than the desk would have been a better option. But what's done is done.Emet-Selch finally says the Warrior's name, with hilarious consequences.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 48





	On the dangers of mixing business with pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and rewrote this ages ago, never got around to posting. It's short. It's fuckin. There's a punchline.
> 
> Enjoy i guess?????
> 
> Big thanks to the convocation on discord for putting up with me posting this kind of stupid shit constantly.

The first time it happens, Emet-Selch has Altruoix bent over his own desk. The act is swift, impulsive - the Warrior’s coat practically torn off in haste, his skirts hiked up to his arms as sharpened teeth clashed in bruising kisses. All arguments about the organization of the upstairs library are quickly forgotten.

The ascian spends little time with foreplay or preparation, aether slicking them both to readiness. Long tapered fingers quickly work the man below him open as he mewls, meticulously kept record books crashing to the ground when he moves to grind against the cool wood.

The elezen has scarce time to adjust to the intrusions before the digits smoothly withdraw and are just as smoothly replaced with Emet-Selch to the hilt. 

The sound Altruoix makes at the swift entry is  _ filthy _ , drowning out the other’s gratified sigh. They stand there for a moment, the hero of the realms resting his sweat soaked face upon an open tome while the ancient creature above him adjusts, one hand moving to grasp said hero’s shoulder as the second winds itself affectionately through the delicate braid at the nape of their neck. Then the moment passes - Emet-Selch moves, dragging himself across Altruoix’s prostate - and the latter’s body goes taut, keening as the house echoes with the lewd sound of their coupling. 

This day, the ministrations are swift, and the motion of their bodies rapidly send Altruoix towards his peak. As thrust upon thrust strikes true, he arches up off the desk, pressing against the ascian, and begins to tend his own aching need. He manages only a few pumps before Emet-Selch catches his wrist, pushing him back down against the desk with a low chuckle. 

“Are you really so eager to be done with me, hero?” he purrs. “Perhaps I have proceeded too quickly apace.” His rhythm does not slow, but pointed strikes are now angled away to teasingly rub. He continues until Altruoix is nearly sobbing, warbling Emet-Selch’s name in need as he impotently humps the air. When he finally does deign to grab hold of Altruoix’s length the man is nearly undone by the touch alone, jerking up hard involuntarily in the grasp. 

With the Warrior’s dick in hand Emet-Selch once again chases both their ends, pace building to a fever pitch, elegant thumb rubbing against their slit as he once again hits Altruoix’s prostate head on. He can feel the man below him tense with a wail, and as his pleasure crests the ascian  _ yanks _ the other man upward, teeth sinking into his shoulder. His lips and teeth come away bloody as he hisses Altruiox’s  **_name_ ** \- 

The shock of it puts the elezen over the edge. His lithe frame slams hard against the garlean one behind him, seeing stars as he makes a mess of what books remain on his desk. His insides clench down hard on the dick inside him, and with a moan in an ancient tongue Altruoix feels himself filled. The two of them collapse into his desk chair, riding out their finish into the afterglow, Emet-Selch remaining inside until his softness precludes it. It is silent - save for their heaving breaths - until Altruoix, face nuzzling into the crook of Emet-Selch’s neck, finally speaks.

“Next time you call my name out during sex,” he mutters, hoarsely, “don’t do it while I’m standing over my accounting ledger.”


End file.
